


Beyond Fodlan

by Endumash



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: All Routes are Canon, Author is not on drugs, Mindscrew, More about Worldbuilding than story, it will make sense, no beta we die like Glenn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 08:01:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28667415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Endumash/pseuds/Endumash
Summary: Centuries later after the Great War, Fodlan's history became kind of a mess.Each country has their own records of how the war went, who emerged victorious and who occupied the other.Each country has their own records of the fate of the great leaders who participated in the war and who survived. Some say they all died, others say only one survived, while others say only one of them died. Even their appearance differ from the other,  Dimitri being perhaps the biggest offender of the three. However the one who takes the cake is Byleth ― records are not even sure about this figure's gender.One man decides to go on a place where people have claimed seeing figures of the past. What he finds and learns is something that blew up his mind: all of them are true. And the deeper the man dug, the crazier things got.





	1. The Pale Vale

**Author's Note:**

> This a sliigthly continuation of my other work, "Heaven's Envoy". I case someone is wondering, no, I have no intention of finishing it. Also, you don't really need to read it to understand this work as things that are out of place will be explained here anyways.
> 
> After taking a break and relaxing my mind during these lasts months, I have realized that I ate more than I could chew. I am more comfortable writing short stories rather than long ones.
> 
> Stay safe and take care of yourself. We are on trying times.

This was centuries after the Great War.

This is a story of a encounter between a young man and a Divine creature.

* * *

Explorer, adventurer, treasure-hunter, grave-robber; so many names to give those who enjoy the thrill of adventure. If there were an adjective for Vaurfe, then none the previous would fit him.

He was a scholar, an unusual one ― versed with the sword but by no means a master of it, just good enough to handle himself in close combat without taking a sweat. He may stand out among scholars, but between warriors, he is just average.

He had been in many places of Fodlan that contain rich history ― Enbarr, Fhirdiad, Derdriu, Garreg Mach, Zanado… however, the young man had a problem with that. All those places were civilized ones, within everyone’s reach, a thing that eventually became a ‘common knowledge’. What he wanted was to find places where very few stepped in, isolated places that perhaps could contain forgotten knowledge, scraps of history, among other things. Not many scholars venture forth-uncivilized places, where danger would dwell. Even if they could hire a sellsword, not all of them have the time to go out there in the wild.

In times of peace, any warrior would think themselves skilled and strong enough to face any danger, for they never experience life-threatening situations such as war. Vaurfe was one of the many fighters that thought they could handle anything thrown at them… except for wyvern and other big creatures such as demonic beasts.

When he heard about the Pale Vale, located between Sreng and Faerghus, he quickly picked interest for some reason. For many ages, everyone thought of it an uninteresting, desolated place. Not worth wasting time getting in there, be it for resources such as wood, or searching for treasures potentially buried beneath the snow. Why would anyone search for values in there anyways; civilization could hardly thrive there to leave mark behind for anyone to re-discover. But every now and then, explorers travelled there just to enjoy the beautiful scenery.

In recent years after a group of explorers returned with white flowers in hand. People began to call it ‘Crystal Bloom’, and the name spoke for itself. The flower was something of otherworldly beauty the people of Fodlan have never seen ― a pale, crystalline bloom that resembles a poinsettia wreathed in gentle permafrost and is cold as it looks, even leaving ice smoke when left in warmth. Another prominent feature other than its appearance was the chime-like noises it makes, earning yet another name, the ‘Song Flower’.

One herbalist in particular returned from the vale claiming to have witness the presence of the Saviour King, also known as the Divine Moonlord, and the former king himself gifted the man a handful of the crystal blooms. Nobody believed him, for everyone thought the herbalist went there, gathered crystal blooms and made up the story to get attention.

Then another herbalist returned from the vale, claiming to have witness the presence of the birdman that was always with the King of Unification, also known as the Divine Stormlord, and the feathered creature nursed the man back to health after catching a cold. On his way back, he also bore witness to the Divine Stormlord himself flying the cold skies of the Pale Valley on his scaly steed. Nobody believed him, for everyone thought the herbalist went there, gathered Crystal Blooms and made up the story to get attention.

Vaurfe might have not believed the first herbalist, but he changed opinion when the second one told his experience.

 _'One sure mark of a fool is to dismiss anything that falls outside their experience as being impossible,’_ the scholar thought. If something happens once, it is a miracle. But if it happens twice, it is no longer a miracle, but a possibility. Besides, it was no secret the Divine Moonlord and the Divine Stormlord being immortals, there is a reason why the word ‘divine’ are in their names. _If_ they were truly divine, that is. However, they both left Fodlan alongside the Second Sirius after burning the Goddess’s gift away, returning the possibility to the Heavens in the form of Constellations.

‘ _There is one version of history that never marked them as dead. They just left the continent once it stabilized. They could have returned at any moment for reasons that doesn’t concern us_ ,’ he thought.

He did not want to waste any time. There was a possibility they could leave the continent at any time. He asked both herbalists if the path to the Pale Vale was perilous and where they found the figures from centuries ago.

Answering his first question, yes, it was a little bit. Treacherous roads that might have some pack of wolves roaming around but beyond cold temperatures, nothing else. For someone like Vaurfe, a pack of wolves was not of a big deal and he was a scholar from Faerghus, he is very used to the cold. The only thing he had to take care was his supplies but even then, many people went there and returned without many major problems. The journey sounded a piece of cake for him. There was one last warning that could be perhaps the biggest problem: the sunlight. The landscape is perpetually covered in snow, which reflects the light and makes it difficult to look everywhere without being partially blinded. That is why everyone brought scrolls with a specific magic to protect the eye from the reflected light and Vaurfe did the same.

Answering his second question, so far they found them in a special place where trees visually looked the same as the crystal bloom, pale and cold and they made the same chiming noises.

Vaurfe soon found out why in the past Sreng never bothered invading Faerghus by crossing the mountains and instead they choose to go by sea. As the herbalist said, the road was perilous and most importantly, taxing. Unprepared people would have their legs and especially their feet sore and throbbing because of how rugged the way is. Even if Vaurfe was used making long-distance travels, fatigue managed to catch up to him. Still, he reached the vale with no major problems.

The scholar was left in awe. It really lived up to its name. Between the craggy mountains that separated Sreng and Faerghus lies a snowy forest, a white blanket covering the ground. Almost everything covered in snow and soon enough Vaurfe’e eyes were burning ― the reflected sunlight was already making its effect on him and he quickly used one of the scrolls. Upon reading its enchantments and channelling his inner magical energies to the parchment, it burned in azure flames, its magical particles surrounding him and providing his eyes the protection needed.

As the scholar explored the landscape, it was not as bad a people painted it to be. Life was thriving quite well, making the place not as desolated as one might think. Every now and then, Vaurfe saw some caribou walking in a single line; a lead animal breaking through the snow and the rest of the herd following its track. They used their hooves to clear away the snow from plants in order to eat. He also saw snow hares and snow foxes. He even managed to see a pile of hay located between rocks. He took a closer look, for he found it odd. Upon touching and moving some grass and dried flower, an angry pika squeaked and bit Vaurfe’s hand. Not hard enough to break skin though, it was a warning and the scholar took it to heart. He was not even mad, the little thing was so damn adorable he wanted to pick it up and pet it, but he did not want to risk some blood and he would rather let the small rodent live its life quietly.

There was not much of a trace of civilization in the vale. While it was possible to build a settlement, the place is very isolated and away from other settlements if the owner decides to trade and/or buy something from a city, not no mention the cold during winter. If someone from Faerghus wanted to live a quiet life in the wilderness, then the Pale Vale was for them as long as they could defend themselves from potential predators. If there were caribou, hares and foxes, then sure there were some bigger hunters, such as bears, wolves and lynxes. And those are only land predators as Vaurfe managed to spot golden eagles and owls as he moved deeper into the vale.

Hours have passed and finally the scholar managed to hear the chiming sound the herbalists mentioned and in the distance, he saw the pale trees. At first glance, they looked like trees covered in snow but upon close inspection they look as if they were made of crystal. Combined with the snow, the place was what made the vale earn its name, 'Pale Vale'. Vaurfe forgot he was in the border between Fodlan and Sreng as he was enthralled by everything the place had to offer ― its music, its gentle cold embrace, its sense of safety and serenity, free from the problems of society.

“Careful now. You do not want to step on the flower, do you?” suddenly a voice spoke to him.

With a small jumpscare, Vaurfe looked everywhere. Judging by the voice’s tone, it was not an enemy. When it called him, he looked up. A birdman wearing a red hat was sitting on top of one of the tree branches. It opened its mouth to give him his best try of a smile. It did not work, for the scholar looked at the creature clueless. Spreading its wings, it flew down and kneeled before the crystal blooms.

“I take it you came here for some flowers. All visitors came here for the same reason,” the birdman said before breathing on its claws.

Vaurfe watched carefully. The creature was incredibly gentle and patient in harvesting the flowers. At the same time, he carefully examined the birdman, “you… you are Ikkar, yes? The birdman that stayed by the Alliance Leader Claude during the Great War.”

“If you believe it, then yes I am. If you do not, then I am just another birdman who happens to look like Ikkar,” the creature gave a rather unhelpful answer, but Vaurfe took it as the creature screwing with him. If books were to be believed, every now and then the character Ikkar likes to give uncooperative answers. After harvesting a good handful of crystal blooms, the birdman stood up and ‘happily’ handed them to the scholar, “there you go, good man.”

“Um… thank you,” the man awkwardly took the crystal blooms. They were cold at the touch.

“You sound like you did not come here for the flowers,” Ikkar said rather incredulous, “if it is not the case, why did you come here?”

“First I would rather confirm something first. Are you truly the same creature who nursed back to health an herbalist that came here days ago?”

“Yep."

“Then they were not lying after all…” Vaurfe murmured for himself as he stroked his chin while looking at the crystal blooms. Then, he looked at Ikkar again, “are the Divine Lords dwelling in here at the moment?”

“Oh… I see. Well, my good ol’ pal Claude may appear here, he visits every now and then. Even though he was born in Almyra he grew fond of snowy places thanks to Dimitri. This vale is their favourite snowy place. This night he will surely appear just right ahead, on the frozen lake.”

“Why on a specific place and specific time?” the scholar asked.

“Why won’t you ask him once you see him?” the birdman asked back.

Vaurfe was about to say something but decided to keep it quiet. Ikkar asked as if the Divine Moonlord himself was definitely going to appear this night. On a specific spot. The man sighed.

“Hey, if you want to rest go ahead, I’ll watch over you. I bet the trip was tiresome,” said the birdman.

“Give me a reason to trust you,” Vaurfe protested.

“Well, I gave you flowers and I haven’t attack you, but I applaud your scepticism. It is wise to distrust a stranger, especially if it is not someone of your kin. Try to think like this ― why would I want to bring any harm to you? What would I gain by doing it?”

“Fair enough. Besides, many people came here to get these flowers and lived to tell the story and also, one of them did get to know you and you helped him even though you had no reasons,” the man answered as he settle down right in front of the flowers.

“Well, he caught a cold. I could not just leave him to his luck,” Ikkar said as he took out a pipe and prepared to smoke it. Then he sat right next to the scholar.

“You are quite the peculiar creature,” Vaurfe said while looking at the birdman, having a hard time to believe what he was seeing.

“Oh boy, if you think that of me, then you are not prepared of what lies beyond Fodlan,” if Ikkar could make facial expressions, if it were not for his beak, he would be smirking right now. But given the tone of his voice, the scholar could feel it.

“Are you telling me there are more of your kin outside of Fodlan?” the man asked rather incredulous.

“More that you could imagine,” he said before exhaling some smoke.

Vaurfe did not answer; he stared at the flowers, listening to the chiming sounds of the forest while thinking Ikkar’s words. _‘There is more out there, and I am missing them?’_ he thought to himself.

Silence followed, none of them had anything to say on the matter. Eventually the scholar began to unpack his bed roller.

“That sure looks cosy,” Ikkar said while looking at the man getting in what he could describe a cocoon, “that will keep you warm, but not enough. Do not worry; I know some spells that will keep the cold at bay. You do not want to catch a cold, do you?”

Vaurfe said nothing and let the birdman cast a veil of light around him. He felt the spell’s warmth, feeling safer than before. He could trust the birdman. For now.


	2. Dream's grief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The scholar has a dream, or nightmare, where he sees and feels what the Divine Moonlord felt during the Great War.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just some angst for Dimitri and even Blaiddyd to some extent.

A dream. Vaurfe knew it, for he found himself in a situation that it was very unlikely to happen right now.

A battlefield set aflame. People burned alive, broken weapons, and a raging battlefield, with ironically a single wrathful man cooling it down with its mere presence.

The scholar knew who the man was. This were his vengeful days, not as the Divine Moonlord but as the Moon Demon, or the Vesanic Prince, or the Ruthless Wolf ― that is what Faerghus would eventually name him. As for Adrestia, they gave him more aggressive names and for understandable reasons, such as the Genocider, or the Lord of Atrocity or the Bloodthirsty Lion.

As the Moon Demon’s body emanated the same ice smokes as the crystal blooms and the pale trees, he raged through the battlefield tearing apart his enemies as easily as it is to break paper.

Vaurfe heard a voice. It was rough, low and full of hatred and he took a guess: the Moon Demon. The resentment behind his voice was something the scholar have never seen and it chilled him to the bone.

“ _I am so full of hate I can barely stand them. Even now I cannot feel anything but abhorrence._

_I hate, I hate, I hate, I hate, I hate, I hate, I hate, I hate, I hate._

_I abhor, I abhor, I abhor, I abhor, I abhor, I abhor, I abhor, I abhor, I abhor._

_I hate the Emperor. I hate Adrestia. I abhor Faerghus. I abhor Fodlan. I abhor humanity. I hate myself._

_How? How things ended up like this? No, it should have not be like this! I cannot allow it. I hate it. I hate all of you, I hate you so much I can’t stand you! I wish you could just burn away!_

_Ah… the Eternal Flames are a sham, nothing but a concept to ensure a code of conduct. But true hell is right here and if this land is not already hell, maybe I just need to make it so. Then all this nonsense will start to make sense. I shall descend upon all of you. I shall gouge out your eyes, crave out your hearts, shatter every bone in your bodies and I skin you alive._ ”

' _So, this is how deep his hatred ran? How sad..._ ' Vaurfe thought.

Even if he was as cold as the grave, the Moon Demon continued to rage on the battlefield, painting it red while the Emperor set it ablaze. They both turned the land into hell and the crazed prince engaged the crimson warrior, the clash ending up with the last scion of Hraesvelgr gravely injured. If only Duke Fraldarius had not stepped in the Moon Demon’s way…

“Out of my way!” the mad prince growled.

“I can’t, Your Highness. It is a knight’s duty to punish those who fall astray,” the duke dared to speak bold words towards the Moon Demon. A sentence that would have killed the person if it were not Rodrigue or someone else dear to the prince.

“Step aside, Rodrigue! I kill Edelgard, and the dead will…!” the Moon Demon sounded more desperate than angry, ice smoke pouring out from his mouth, making him look like a rabid dog.

“Your Highness… you have lost your way…” Rodrigue unsheathed his blade, looking at the prince with great sadness, “you have chosen a path where there is no turning back… I am sorry, Dimitri,” he apologized with a genuine smile on his face despite shedding tears at the sight of his adopted son.

He did not get to see the sad fight.

* * *

_"After Blaiddyd's village was pillaged and burned to the ground, him being its only survivour, he swore bloody vengeance on the people of Sreng,"_ the young scholar began to think to himself.

_"Nemesis reached out of him and offered him the the Goddess's Gifts in the form of the Holy Blood, and Relic ― Actually the blood taken by force from one of her children and the the Relics crafted with their hearts and bones. With mighty Areadbhar in hand, Blaiddyd carried out a night assault, massacring thousands of people. People began hail as hero from protecting them from outsiders. When remnants of Sreng stroke back with little success, Blaiddyd realized in horror of the monster he became by lowering himself to the same level of savagery of his enemies ― his pride became his shame even if his people never saw him that way,"_ Vaurfe thought of how similar the progenitor and his last scion were to scary degrees.

_"Thus, Blaiddyd created the Oath of Warriors: the righteous rule of war. This was made with the purpose of avoiding creating a monster like himself. First followed by the Lords of the North, Gautier, Fraldarius, Galatea, Charon and Dominic. Eventually followed by the Church of Seiros and even after fracturing, Adrestia and Leicester,"_ the young scholar began to think of the Oath founded by the Elite. Everyone admired it and so they followed it. However...

_"While in time every now and then the Oath was broken, during the Great War the Oath of Warriors was **continuously** being trampled. Adrestia was the first to break it, followed by Leicester and the Church. Even Faerghus ended up breaking the Oath. Vengeance called vengeance, and offense made offense fester like plague._

  1. _The fight must begin at sunrise and must end by sunset. (Broken first by Adrestia. Eventually broken by everyone)_
  2. _No warrior may kill or injure a warrior who has surrendered. (Broken first by Adrestia. Eventually followed by everyone)_
  3. _One who surrenders becomes a prisoner of war and will then be subject to the protections of a prisoner of war. (Violated by Adrestia)_
  4. _No warrior shall kill or injure an unarmed warrior. (Broken by everyone)_
  5. _No warrior shall kill or injure an unconscious warrior. (Broken by everyone)_
  6. _No warrior shall kill or injure a person or animal not taking part in the war. (Broken by everyone)_
  7. _No warrior shall kill or injure a warrior whose back is turned away. (Broken by everyone)_
  8. _Warriors must not engage in any 'unfair' warfare whatsoever. (Broken by everyone)_
  9. _The lives of women, prisoners of war, and farmers are sacred. (Violated by Adrestia)_
  10. _The land should not be pillaged. (Broken by everyone)_



_And the Moon Demon, who tried to keep the Oath, was too angry. Angry for sadness. Angry for the fallen. Angry at the world he could not make reason with and could not cope with. In the end, in his ever-growing hate and sadness, he ended up breaking the Oath, lowering himself to the same level of savagery Blaiddyd once did and performed forbidden night assaults,"_ Vaurfe lamented how everyone, especially the Moon Demon, was so desperate to the point of breaking the Oath completely.

_"No wonder when Blaiddyd was freed from the Agarthan's control by his scion, upon hearing from the Divine Moonlord what became of the continent and the Oath he created, the only thing he said was ' **I am not mad, I am just disappointed** '," _the young scholar concluded. After seeing how brutal the Great War was, his reaction was understandable. And kind of scary, given who his last scion was and what he was capable of.


	3. Mindblast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After waking up, he one he was looking for appears before him.
> 
> Little did he know that a massive mind blast waited for him, changing the way he thinks about reality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen, things will make sense, I promise you!

“–oy?” a voice called him, “…Boy?” Ikkar was looking at Vaurfe from a respectable distance to avoid startling him. Waking up, the young man realized it was already night-time, “the one who are you looking for is already here.”

Upon hearing those words, the scholar got up rather fast and began looking his surroundings. Kindly, Ikkar placed a hand ―or rather, his claws― on the man’s shoulder to get his attention and then made a motion to follow.

Treading carefully to not to step on the crystal blooms, the forest’s chiming song grew slightly louder as they kept going. Not that either of them minded; Ikkar loved it and Vaurfe was growing very fond of it. It did not take longer than three minutes to reach the frozen lake.

He was there, looking up, staring at the moon. What the scholar was seeing is almost the perfect recreation of a painting that pictures the Divine Moonlord staring at the celestial body. However, there as something that did not fit, light tendrils surging from his shoulders and his back.

Vaurfe did not know what to do. He came here to see if what the herbalists said was true, and they were indeed true. Their story have been confirmed, now what?

It seemed if he was not going to take the first step, the Divine Moonlord would take it. He turned around and things just got weirder. He did not have a right eye but in its place, there was pure moonlight replacing the empty socket, with white cracks around that made him look as if he were a broken doll. This was familiar for the scholar, he remembered seeing that aspect, perhaps in a description in a book, or in a painting. It turned out it was both, he even had the white scar in his neck as mentioned in some records he was decapitated but he never succumbed to death. Vaurfe did not even realized the Divine Moonlord was already in front of him.

“By your expression, I take it you can see this, right?” the divine lord pointed where his right eye should be.

“What do you mean ‘I can see it’? Are you trying to tell me not anyone can see it?” Vaurfe asked back.

“That is right,” Dimitri gave no further explanation.

The scholar said nothing. He stared at the Divine Moonlord. Some things were not right or history got things very wrong, as it seems not many sources seem to agree how King Dimitri used to look. The only thing they seemed to agree with is that he is a tall, blond man with blue eyes with black and white fur. Beyond that, all depict him differently ― records from Adrestia picture him with both eyes intact and wearing platinum armour and meets his demise on the Tailtean Plains. Records from Leicester picture him with an eyepatch and wearing black-pitch armour and he did have a white scar on his neck, or any scar on his neck for the matter and meets his demise on Gronder Field. Records from Faerghus seems to have a bit of both. During the first part of the war he is the Moon Demon, he wears the same armour Leicester depicts. During the final part where Faerghus and Leicester ―even amongst Faerghus, there are debates whenever Claude handed the Alliance to Dimitri and left to become King of Almyra, or they both joined forces to push the Empire back― strike back against Adrestia, he is the Divine Moonlord who wears the same armour the Empire depicts, except he is missing an eye. Heck, even among records from the Kingdom, they are not sure whenever his scars are instead moonlight or if he even has a scar on his neck like the records from the Alliance.

While the three central figures have their inconsistency, most of the debates are centred around King Dimitri and the Inheritor on Sirius, Byleth. Heck, records are not even sure what gender the latter was, whom they sided with, whom they married ―if they got married in the first place― and if they became the Second Sirius or not. For Adrestia, they lost their divine powers forever but for Faerghus and Leicester, they made used of their power to burn away the First Sirius’ gifts, returning the possibility to the Heavens in the form of Constellations.

Vaurfe grunted in annoyance of how damn inconsistent history was.

“Are you alright? You look rather troubled,” Dimitri asked worried.

“I’m right, I just…” he realized one of the historical characters was standing right in front of him. He could ask which one of the records are true, “there is something that has been bothering me tono end. I am a scholar you see, and there are a bunch of inconsistencies about you…” as he explained how Adrestia, Leiceter and Faerghus remembered him, the blond man listened carefully. Strange for Vaurfe, Dimitri was not even making confused faces or any expression a person would make when people say many different things about them. “If you truly are the King of Faerghus of the Great War, who instead of dying during or after the war, lived because of the divine touch of the Moon, you could sure tell me which version is true.”

“That is… complicated. Would you believe if I tell you all of them are true?” the Divine Moonlord did not sound he was joking.

“If you are not messing with me then no, I find it rather impossible to believe,” the scholar answered with a deadpan tone.

“As hard as it is to believe, it is true, young man,” Ikkar supported Dimitri’s claim, “Fodlan is a big mess. Perhaps most of the people may not think it that way and scholars like you are aware of how inconsistent history is. And that the exact reason of why it is inconsistent, all of them happen to be true.”

“You must be familiar with a tone said to be written by Sirius herself, passed down from Archbishop to Archbishop,” Dimitri said.

“Yes, I know it,” Vaurfe answered, “It is quite an old tune. Some find it beautiful, others find it melancholic. But what does it have to do with any of this?”

“’In Time’s Flow…’ who said there is only one Flow of Time?” he rhetorically asked, “Time is not a Force to be taken lightly when used, and Sirius’ misuse is the reason why Fodlan left behind a rather messy history. When the Second Sirius realized this, they stopped using it altogether. Chronomancy is not meant for the unwise, especially the selfish.”

“What the heck are you talking about?” the poor man did not understand a thing even when Dimitri was outright telling the reason of history’s inconsistency.

“Well, he did say it was complicated. Your surprise is unsurprising,” Ikkar teased him.

“I am not sure why you came here, but given your profession I can take a guess. Are you willing to listen? You may be able to understand it as it is, but you must keep in mind that truly grasping it is something that mortals cannot handle and most of them are driven insane,” the Divine Moonlord warned him.

“I… sure?” the scholar was still rather confused at the ominous warning, “the way you say it, it take it I should keep this info for myself, am I right?”

“Not really,” Ikkar answered him, “it is not that this knowledge is forbidden to mortals, but good luck getting others to believe you. They might think you are insane or they will just laugh at you.”

“As if I care what the other think of me. Just spill me the goods,” Vaurfe said rather flippantly.

“As you wish. Hmm… how do you see Time as a Force? Static or Changing?” Dimitri started with those questions.

“Isn’t that obvious? Of course Time is a Changing Force.”

“Just as I expected,” the blond man sounded rather disappointed even though it was not his intention at all.

“Oh come on, do not tell me that Time is otherwise,” the scholar protested.

“Is… complicated,” the Divine Moonlord chuckled, “you see, that is what most believe Time to be. While it is true that Time has some Chaotic ― Changing nature, it does have its Static moments. If anything, it is at some degree both of them. Mortals have a hard time grasping it because they most likely never will. And because of that, you deem it as something impossible. Your senses does not dictate how the world ― all of Creation, functions, let alone its structure. There are several creatures that can see, sense and feel more than you and still, it is not enough to grasp it completely.”

“ _’One sure mark of a fool is to dismiss anything that falls outside their experience as being impossible,’_ heh… it seems those words I used to say came back to bite me in the ass,” Vaurfe said grimly.

“That sure is a good quote. I will definitely borrow it when it comes to explain what I am about to explain to others. Returning to the topic, Time. Time goes from one space to another and Changes everything, Time always Changes or so is what you believe. Think of Time as Static moments, like a painting that contains everything in a single moment. That moment never changes, it never moves. This is what Time truly is, an uncountable infinite amount of moments. Instead of moving through Time, imagine yourself moving from one moment to the next, like the sequence of pictures that eventually depict an action. Of course, instead of two dimensions like a picture, imagine in three dimensions like this very moment,” Dimitri stopped there, letting the scholar process what he just said.

Vaurfe was with his arms closer, eyes closed, processing and understanding it. After a few seconds, he hummed and nodded, “that was not hard to understand. Is just people never thought Time that way. What does this have to do with Fodlan’s history being a mess?”

“Patience. Now you _understand_ it ― _grasping_ it with your very being is a completely different issue. Fodlan’s Flow of Time was broken when Byleth, who housed the heart of Sirius, almost gave their life to protect the last scion of Hraesvelgr, Edelgard,” the Divine Moonlord began to explain.

“Sorry to interrupt, but as far as records go, unlike you, the Flame Emperor and the King of Unification, Byleth’s life was never endangered.”

“Oh, this is where things will start to make sense, young man,” Ikkar added with a rather smugly tone, “you see, Byleth or rather, Sirius, is one of the few creatures that used to practice Chronomancy ― the ability to control Time. If the life one who housed the heart of Sirius were in great danger, what would a chronomancer do?”

“Well, I do not what exactly a chronomancer can do. But I think I know where this is going. If they can return back in time, they would definitely turn back to avoid getting killed,” Vaurfe said when realization kicked in.

“That is what exactly Sirius did to preserve the life of Byleth, that precise moment when an axe was about to pierce their back, potentially dying from their wounds,” Dimitri began to explain, “that precise moment is when Fodlan’s Flow of Time was broken and from it, others were crafted and waved.”

“So, that is why you questioned of the existence of other Flows of time,” slowly but surely, the young scholar began to understand the whole mess. Just because he would end up understanding it, it does not mean it stops being a mess. The whole point is to understand the mess, not making it less messy. If anything, the more one understands, the _messier_ it gets.

“You see, the reason why Fodlan’s history is not clear is because several Flows of Time were merged after the war. For example, the Flow of Time where I did not lose my eye and not exiled from my homeland when the war started ― that is the Flow of Time where Adrestia wins the war and occupies all of Fodlan. There is no need to tell you what happened in the other Flow of Time. You already know it.”

“So, that is why all records are different from one to another,” Vaufe began to scratch his head. If all documentations, or at least most of them, were true, then things were more complicated than they seemed at first glance. The Divine Moonlord was not joking when he said it was complex. Well, history does not remember him as a person who would joke in the first place.

“When the Second Sirius’s awareness increased, eventually the broken Time was mended by them, essentially merging all other Flows into one. Because the major political forces have their history occupying the others, once merged, all Flows left Fodlan rather unchanged for what I have seen.”

“You were not joking when you said people would treat me as a madman for spiting and believing in this info. Given the complexity, I am sure there will be times I wished I didn’t knew,” the young scholar gave a rather long sigh of defeat.

“Well, there is an old saying that goes ‘Too much knowledge is agony’, that sure applies here,” Ikkar said, “sometimes it increases someone’s ego and makes them haughty, or humbles them. I hope it’s the later in you.”

“I am not interested in boasting what I know,” Vaurfe nearly snarled, “Besides, there is something that I still do not understand. You say that all Flows of Time are true, then why I see you with how the Kingdom depicts you? That would pretty much refute everything you have told me even if there are documents that still contradict it.”

His words rang true. If everything the Divine Moonlord said were true, then why he is missing an eye? How he _would_ look in the first place?

‘ _If Fodlan’s political powers were left unchanged because all countries conquering the other completely resulted in being completely nullified at the merging phase… would he be missing an eye because in most Flows he lost it? Yes. It has to be,’_ Vaurfe thought. It was not a bad reasoning even though he still does not understand how the whole thing works in the first place.

“That is…,” Dimitri really did not want to say it, but well, it was the truth.

“Another complicated matter? Why everything has to be complicated?” the scholar complained.

“Who said everything is simple?” Ikkar asked back.

“Ok, you win,” Vaurfe admitted rather quickly, “but is the reasoning behind it something that others would find it bullshit?”

“Um… yes. I think,” the Divine Moonlord answered rather unsure. For him, it was not a bullshit thing. For others it definitely would, “you could understand this reasoning closer to my 'appearance being perceived different by the beholder'.”

“And since I am from Faerghus, I see you how the records from the Kingdom depict you and those from Adrestia will see you with both eyes intact, because that is how the Empire depicts you,” Vaurfe said rather confident.

“The really short version would be something like that, but the truth is... allegedly true, so to speak,” Dimitri began to explain once again, “Is the information you receive from your senses true or false? Is the form you see of me truly my real form? Am **I** really standing right in front of you?”

“What the heck are you talking about? Are you implying that everything I perceive is not true?” Vaurfe began to question the Divine Moonlord after implying the lord himself questions whenever he should be alive or dead given the different records of Fodlan’s history. If the previous explanations was already somewhat hard enough to accept, then an explanation that pretty much questions everything _he_ perceives was even more bullshit and harder to accept.

“Listen carefully; because what I am going to say shows how dangerous the misuse of chronomancy can truly be,” Ikkar began to explain in Dimitri’s place, “everything you perceive is shared with the rest of the world. That is something called ‘Collective Consciousness’, but because Time was broken in Fodlan, many events happened at the same time and all of them are true. This lead to Adrestia, Faerghus and Leicester having their own collective consciousness of how they perceive Fodlan, the war and those who participated in it.”

“I do not understand what does that mean,” Vaurfe was still clueless. While he understood the general idea, the situation behind it was still something he could not grasp. Yet.

“As our feathered friend said, everything perceived is shared with the rest of the world. Everything from organic to non-organic exists through mutual affirmation of your awareness. However, there is a… ‘Sub-collective consciousness’ within Fodlan, those being each nation of course. Do you understand? It is not a matter of ‘I believe this person looks like this’, because even you were to believe another version of the war more than your homeland’s, your consciousness lies with Faerghus,” Dimitri explained.

“I think my head will explode…” the young scholar said with one hand on his frown, “I am sure my head is steaming right now, you can see smoke coming from it.”

“Good thing we are in a snowy place. You can laid down to cool your head, though you may melt the snow beneath,” the Divine Moonlord said offering the white ground to him.

“Ha! Good one!” Ikkar gave a small smack on the blond’s arm and both chuckled.

Vaurfe grunted in annoyance at first, but it was obvious they were teasing him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Person: This apple is red and half of it was eaten by me!  
> Dimitri: Are you sure though? Others say this apple is purple and a quarter of it was eaten by a spider.


End file.
